


An Easy Mark

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [54]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Agents of Fen'Harel, F/M, One Night Stands, Post-Relationship, former solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghilan had heard complaints from Fen'Harel's other agents, warning him that the former Inquisitor was, frankly, a pain in the ass to spy on. But when his boss's former lover begins to flirt with him, he supposes there are certainly worse assignments he could have been given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Easy Mark

Ghilan took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes trained on her from across the inn. Isii Lavellan had not taken notice of him, too absorbed in her conversation with the barmaid to pay him any mind. She was dressed to suit their Rivaini surroundings - a colorful low-cut dress, loose-fitting and cinched at the waist with a large belt, the sides slit high up to her hips. Rather than the salt-crusted boots so common among the sailors of Llomerryn, she wore leather leg wrappings, her feet bare against the ale-stained wooden floor. Her loose, cream-colored curls were peppered with small braids, woven around bright ribbons and beads. She wore more jewelry than he’d ever seen on a Dalish girl before - golden chains hung from piercings along the length of her ears, her collarbone draped in relatively cheap yet flashy stones. A fitting costume. An attempt to blend in, most likely. The pirates who frequented the area tended to have rather garish tastes, in his opinion.

Her eyes met his only briefly. He quickly schooled his features, offering her a smirk, a raised eyebrow - all the signs that he was merely a man enjoying the view. Her reaction was precisely what he was looking for. A coquettish smile, her fingers tucking back strands of her hair before she shyly averted her gaze. Let her take it as a compliment, a silent flirtation, rather than what it truly was.

Ghilan couldn’t understand why so many before him had complained about this assignment.

The former Inquisitor had a certain reputation among Fen’Harel’s agents. He’d heard more than one frustrated tangent over drinks - _Why does he give a damn what she does? It’s not like she can stop us. And why should we be expected to watch her back? We’re spies, not bodyguards. Isn't she the enemy?_

Not that anyone was willing to repeat any of that in front of Fen’Harel himself.

He went into this job assuming the worst. He was warned by his predecessors that she was difficult to track, but so far he hadn’t seen any proof of it. Tailing her had been child’s play. She made no effort to hide herself, walking out in the open just like any other traveler. She stuck to a fairly unchanging routine - mornings took her to the docks and her evenings were spent in the shitty little inn he found himself in now. He thought that her choice of location would put him at a distinct disadvantage. Llomerryn was a port city populated almost entirely by thieves and pirates. There would be plenty of opportunities for her to disappear into the crowded markets, to get herself smuggled onto a ship and off of the island - which would leave him with a massive headache, trying to figure out precisely where she went.

Yet, she seemed to have no intention of running. Isii didn't appear to be the cunning and clever adversary he was warned about. Instead, she was merely a woman - and a fairly unobservant one at that. He had been following her for over a week and she never gave him more than a second glance. He had yet to determine exactly what she was doing in the city, but otherwise his mission there had been pretty damn straightforward.

_Keep eyes on her. Report on her activities. Make certain she doesn’t come to any harm._

It was easy enough to keep his eyes on her as Isii stepped back from the bar, sauntering over to his table. Ghilan hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. He hadn’t been ordered to engage, yet wasn’t specifically instructed to avoid contact either. Abruptly leaving might seem suspicious - so he made no objection when she invited herself to a seat at his table, offering to buy him a drink.

She introduced herself as Telana. Understandable, considering that a one-armed elven woman named Isii would likely garner more recognition than she’d like. When she asked him about himself, Ghilan recounted his rehearsed story - his vallaslin could be attributed to his Dalish mother, but he’d been raised as a city elf in South Reach. He wouldn’t pretend to be Dalish as he normally would - not with someone who had a detailed history with the clans. And of course, the truth would likely give him away. She knew Fen’Harel wasn’t the only ancient elf to survive the passing centuries. No need to raise her suspicions by confessing similar origins.

She claimed to be pleased to find a fellow countryman and he listened patiently as she recounted her life in the alienage of Amaranthine, itching for adventure and eager to hop on the first ship she could find to take her away from Ferelden’s shores. He gave no indication that he knew she was lying. If she wanted to bend the ear of a stranger on a lonely night in a tavern, he would let her - even if neither one of them was telling the truth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand what the Dread Wolf had seen in her. Isii was an undeniably beautiful woman, even with the scars that marred an otherwise perfect complexion. In addition, she had a way about her that was incredibly charming. Her smile was warm, her laughter bright and infectious. As one drink gradually slipped into another, then another, her interest in him became more overt. Leaning in as she spoke to him, her voice low and purring, her hand slipping teasingly along his thigh under the table. He couldn’t deny that her flirtation stroked his ego. This woman had seduced a god and yet now her eye seemed to be set on him for the evening. He couldn’t help but encourage her, driven by his own curiosity as much as the liquor that now warmed his cheeks.

She draped her body against his side, letting out a breathy giggle as she murmured against his throat, asking him if he wanted to show her the room he'd rented upstairs.

Then she slid her lips around the tip of his ear, demonstrating in no uncertain terms what other skills her tongue was capable of.

It was at that moment that Ghilan had to make a very important decision.

Llomerryn was a city of vice - of anonymous partners and hedonistic pursuits. It was in no way uncommon for a man or woman to seek a little fun to fill their evenings here without any strings attached. It was likely the reason she came over to his table in the first place - just looking for a distraction, a little mutual entertainment from the man she caught staring at her.

She did not know who he was or why he was there. But she had lied to him as well, hadn’t she? They were even on that front.

And he _had_ been ordered to keep a very close eye on her.

He knew she used to be the Dread Wolf’s lover, but that didn’t seem to matter now. Not when she led him up the stairs, teasing his lips with her teeth as she asked him which door was his. Besides, his boss had only seen her… what? Once, briefly, over the past three years or so? Fen’Harel held no claim to her and who was Ghilan to argue with her choices?

After all, it’s not like anyone else would ever know.

She was a wonder - fierce with her kisses, her hand eagerly tugging his belt loose, wasting no time on pretense once the door to his room slammed shut. There was no pretending that this was some sort of romantic encounter. This was sex, pure and simple, and turning down the offer of it was the very last thing on his mind. It had been quite some time since he'd had a good tumble. What could it hurt? He reasoned that he wasn't disobeying orders, exactly - more like creatively reinterpreting them.

Her body was every bit as enticing as he had imagined once he got her clothes off. Full curves over a lithe frame, lean, toned muscles - even her scars held a special allure. He wanted to trace them with his lips, with his tongue, fingers grasping greedy handfuls of flesh as they stumbled onto his bed. She, in turn, seemed just as eager, pulling him down to the press of her lips, her laughter quickly melting into sighs as his hand slipped between her legs.

This woman had known the touch of a god. Yet the way she now writhed for _him_ , the way she moaned out praises, the way she ecstatically begged for more…

_Well._

That had its own special allure too.

***

Ghilan opened his eyes, instantly regretting it as he squinted from the glare. His room was far too bright and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, the aftermath of the previous night's drinking catching up to him. He groaned as he rolled over, unsurprised to find the bed empty beside him. He didn't quite remember falling asleep. Given that he was still naked, it likely happened fairly quickly after rolling off of Isii. Not his finest moment, certainly. But it's not as if she'd come to his room to cuddle.

Their evening had been enjoyable, however ill-conceived. He wasn't foolish enough to claim that it had been a _good_ plan to sleep with her. If nothing else, it robbed him of his anonymity. If she saw him following her, she'd have more of a reason to take notice. Then again, perhaps he could twist this to his advantage. He could befriend her, however artificially, and build off of that tenuous thread of connection. It would give him an excuse to stay close. Perhaps then he'd learn what she was doing in Llomerryn in the first place.

He blindly groped for the pillow beside him, fully intending to bury his face against it and go back to sleep when his hand fell across a scrap of paper. He peeked his eyes open again, frowning as he unfolded the note.

**_Considering that you are about to have what I can only assume is a fairly terrible morning, I thought you should know that I did enjoy our time together last night. That much, at least, was completely genuine._ **

**_Give the Dread Wolf my regards. Kindly inform him that I am a better chess player than he remembers - and he should stop sending pawns to take the Queen._ **

**_Isii_ **

“Shit.” Ghilan pushed his body from the bed, staggering toward his discarded breeches. She knew he was an agent of Fen’Harel and gods only knew how much of a head start she had on him now. He jerked his breeches up, his eyes scanning the room for his satchel as he tried to calculate just how fast he could get to the docks. If she was going to run, she'd need a ship. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd find her there. He whipped his tunic over his head, snatching his belt off of the floor as he turned, continuing to look for his bag. He was certain he'd left it by the foot of the desk, but there was no sign of it.

_Gods, had she stolen it?_

He tore through the room, but the small space only offered a limited number of places to look. The bag was gone. She'd made off with his money, a few maps, some parchment and ink and-

A curse flew past his lips, half-shouted as he burst from his room, nearly falling down the stairs in his haste to reach the inn’s door.

 _The code book_. She had his code book - which meant she had the cipher that each of Fen’Harel's agents used in their reports. Every correspondence, every spy and scout briefing, every order given by high command was encoded using the information the Inquisitor now held in her hand. Messages had been intercepted in the past, presumably by her people, though it was never a problem because they couldn't hope to understand any of it.

Until now, that is.

Ghilan was panting hard, out of breath by the time he finished sprinting to the docks - but there was no sign of her. And since she'd taken all of his coin, he had no way to book passage on a ship, even if he had a clue where she'd sailed off to.

He slumped against a wall, stooped over as he braced his hands on his thighs, trying to steady his breaths. No money, no ship, no Eluvian on this damn island. He would have to send word to one of their strongholds - _somehow_ \- and wait for someone to come fetch him.

And then he'd have to explain to Fen’Harel exactly _how_ his former lover had managed to steal all of his belongings without him noticing.

Ghilan squeezed his eyes shut tightly, groaning.

He was fucked. Utterly, royally fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: _What happens in Llomerryn, stays in Llomerryn._ :p


End file.
